


A Very Big Bed.

by noseforahtwo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noseforahtwo/pseuds/noseforahtwo
Summary: Self Indulgent threeway porn, in two parts. Emery Trevelyan belongs to @gap-var-ginnunga and I love him dearly. This scene in a Denerim tavern would take place after the truth comes out about Thom Rainier, but before Corypheus has been dealt with.





	1. Chapter 1

“Here, for our trouble.”

She takes the coins, silver this time, with a smile but slides half of them back across the table’s smooth surface. “You’ve not been much trouble, Herald.”

His blue eyes light up before his cheeks go blotchy red over a fair beard. He wears it in a small braid at the chin. It’s quaint - especially on a person who was supposed to be leading a Chantry army into the big green hole in the Frostbacks.

“Umm.” His eyes flick to the man sitting across from him. “Thanks.”

Millie nods at the hand he is keeping hidden under the table. “It’s a right pain to hide, hmm?”

“He’s bad for hiding all around.” The black haired man chuckles.

They had been leaning in over their tankards muttering and telling jokes for nigh on two hours. Even sitting down the Herald is head and shoulders over him. He wipes a hand over his odd forked beard as he sits back to prop a boot on the Herald’s chair.

It’s a long time before she sweeps by the Herald’s table again. Nobody has spotted him for anything but a reet big fella hobnobbing with his mate in a quiet corner. Even if it _is_ strange to hear a noble’s accent coming out of a man the size of one of those Avvar. Like them he carries an ax and wears a necklace with animal teeth and carved bone strung on leather.

The darker one is eyeballing her as she comes close. Millie tilts her head just so but doesn’t let on. _At least I wore this and not the shabby green frock. Have to see about mending the hem._

There is silver in the Herald’s huge palm. Not the special hand, which is a shame as she’d like to have a good look at it. Possessed, so they say. But no it’s the other hand, big enough to pick up pumpkins two at the time.

Millie looks at the money but only takes their empty tankards. “M’lord you’ve paid up for at least another hour, even at the rate you and your friend put it away.” Millie winks. The Herald _of Frigging Andraste_ blushes again. “So put your coins back before one of those blighters,” she cuts her eyes toward the game of Wicked Grace at the bar. “Comes oozing over.”

“Nobody’s paid attention to us, we must look like trouble,” the Markham man says. “My thanks.”

“We get all types here, Ser. If you want your drinks incognito, it’s your look out.”

His eyebrows quirk up.

“My thanks,” he says again, leaning on an elbow. “As you’ve got a knack for secrecy - yes, this is the Herald of-”

“Thom, stuff that rot.” He coughs, taking a gulp to clear his throat. “Emery, and this is Thom.”

Millie glances at Thom who looks shifty all of a sudden. She bobs maybe half a curtsy then rushes to the door. Old Ansel is trying to unwrap his cloak and use his walking stick at the same time and he’s letting the rain in behind him.

“Millie,” she throws over a shoulder.

In the kitchen she sits with her feet up for a precious few moments. Uncle Branch brings her a bowl of stew with an apple sliced over it.

“Old Ansel make it in all right?” He huffs and picks up the cask she had used for a foot stool. “Has he got two coppers to rub together this week?”

“Who can say?” She sucks air in over her burned tongue. “Hmmph. I know where to scare up his boys when the tab gets too high.”

Her uncle sighs and nudges the kitchen door open with the fresh cask over his stooped shoulder.

“Those two in the corner are looking your way again, Millie.” He frowns. “They behaving?”

Millie cuts two trenchers and carves roast nug down on each with a handful of salted pecans and cheese thrown over the meat. “Close enough,” she mutters. “Staring at my arse all night but what else is new?”

Branch shakes his head at her with a resigned sigh. “I do despair of you ever settling down with a nice fella.”

“They’re good tippers. That’s all the nice I need in this place.” She squeezes between her uncle and the edge of the door.

“I’ll be sleeping with cotton in my ears tonight,” Branch grumbles. “You’ve got that look about you. Don’t wink your eye at me, lassie - whichever one it is, keep it to this side of the house.”

_Which one indeed?_ _Trying to bed the only man to survive the Divine's murder might not be the cleverest idea._ _I wonder if that hand will muck up the Potion? best not to risk it. Plenty of other things a girl can do instead of a proper fuck, though._

“You should eat, with all the ale you’ve put away.” Millie has to lean over to push the Herald’s food close enough. But men looking down her dress is hardly new. The Herald starts eating before the trencher lands but Thom catches her wrist carefully as she stands up straight. Getting pawed at comes with the business so it’s hard to stop herself jerking away out of habit. But his grip isn’t tight at all when she lets him salute her knuckles, ticklish beard making her shiver.

“You’re a creature of rare kindness,” he says with a Markham burr.

“I won’t help carry either of you bruisers up to a room if you take a header, Ser.” Had she even felt his lips on her skin? Could have just been mustache. Either way she knows she is pink, can feel it spreading down from her ears. She takes her hand back. Thom ignores his food in favor of holding her gaze. _Well, that’s an offer if ever I’ve seen one._

“Just throw a blanket over me wherever I land!” The Herald is boisterous. He laughs and eats heartily, smiling up at her in a bashful way.

“If you’ve a moment,” Thom says, finally putting food in his mouth. He licks salt from the pad of his thumb.

Millie shrugs, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

Everyone asks about the caves down the river. Millie was just about to give them the usual gab about a fool’s errand, how the cache was probably long gone back in Arl Grimes’ era but she stopped herself.

_Maybe there actually is something left down there._

“Mmmm.” Millie glances between them. They’re both well in their cups, tucking into their midnight snacks. “I’m not certain yet what I want to tell you about the caves.”

Thom isn’t smiling anymore. His eyes are shadowed like he hasn’t slept in a long time. “We need to know where to start the hunt. It’s important.” He shares a significant look with the Herald, who is chewing and nodding, embarrassed.

“Everybody thinks they have a good reason to go getting themselves killed digging up treasure.” Millie can feel herself frowning. Before Thom can try again, she shakes her head. “Save it, love. I’ve tidying upstairs. I’ll think about whether you merit an honest answer.”

The Herald grins, sheepish. “You’ve already said you’re gonna give ush a wild gooshe chase,” he slurs around a mouthful of bread crust.

Millie smiles until he looks down at his food shyly. “No, sweetheart, I’ve told you I need to ruminate on whether you can be trusted not to do something foolish.”  
**

By the time she has the rooms aired out and fresh linens on the bed in the back suite they had eaten their way down to the tabletop. Thom thanked her for the ale she brought and for the location of the entrance to the caverns of Calebry - with a sovereign slipped into her hand.

“You don’t have to pay me.”

Thom’s eyes rake over her, especially the top half. “We do if the help is genuine.”

“Help implies there was a conversation not a transaction.”

Thom laughs, head thrown back a moment. Millie holds the sovereign out pinched between her fingers. Both his broad warm hands close her fist around the coin carefully. “Take it dear heart.” Millie’s stomach goes nervous at his calloused touch. “You’re wasted on a tavern. Too clever by half.”

She pats his knuckles. “Watch yourself.”

“He didn’t mean it like that,” the Herald blurts out, scowling at Thom then tipping his shaggy blond head back a few degrees to placate her. “I’m sorry too. You’re not brainless, anybody can see that. You’re - You should probably be a spy if you aren’t already.” At Thom’s wide eyes he shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. The seams of his tunic barely survive the strain. “ _What_? She should, she’d be good at it.”

The hands around her closed fist let go with lingering fingertips. She keeps her eyes on the Herald as she answers. “This place keeps me busy enough, we can’t keep good help. But I’ll take the compliment. I’ve two good rooms available if you’ll be needing them.”

“And if you’ve got the time, and you wouldn’t mind too much we could use a little more help. Anything you might know about the caverns. About what we’re gonna run into.”

_There is a window pane of a face. Not a lie in him, Marcher lord or not_. Millie counts the drunks left at the hearth.

“I owe you that much at least, after all you’ve done for Ferelden. Once the rowdies are shoved out. But don’t get so legless you can’t recall it in the morning.” Millie reaches out to tug at the little braid of beard teasingly. Despite all the stories people tell of the Herald chopping demons in two, he is surprisingly unassuming - and can’t take his eyes off her tits. “I won’t wake up at sunrise to repeat myself. Not even for you.”

He grins. His teeth are a wreck, crooked as anything. It’s endearing, like the bit of belly hanging over his belt and the blushing cheeks.

Millie can feel both their eyes on her as she pushes the last of the night’s regulars out. When she catches them at it the Herald looks down at the table, tugging at the trinkets on his necklace. Uncle Branch brings the lantern over the door back inside and blows it out. He looks at Millie for one of their little signs that all is well but frowns when he gets it. She has to fight not to laugh at his grumpy sigh.

Branch cuts a narrow-eyed stare at their lodgers for the night. Thom winks at him over the rim of his tankard. Emery kicks him under the table. Branch gathers up the strongbox and goes upstairs with exaggerated dignity, pretending none of that happened.

“Cheeky,” Millie scoffs as she pulls out a bottle of good red for herself. “But obviously,” she ducks into the kitchen to fill a basin from the kettle, speaking up so they can hear her through the door. “Very _very_ obviously - You’re both the sort who have no shame. Girl on each knee every night.”

“We have not!” The Herald calls. His Ostwick accent gets worse the more he drinks. “I’m offended you think we’re scoundrels.”

Millie wrings out a clean cloth and wipes off starting at the back of her neck and working down, moving her dress aside as needed. Her knickers she wiggles out of and wads up inside her discarded apron before returning to the table in the corner with her wine.

“I don’t _have_ any girls tonight to put on your knee, is all.” Millie says. “They always run off to elope or follow a soldier’s camp or take the vows.”

“You can do their job twice as well,” the Herald says, holding a chair for her as she comes closer.

“But I’ve no time to sit on knees, more’s the pity.”

Thom takes his cue, pushing back from the table with a scraping of chair legs and offering his lap.

“Cheeky.” She takes the seat the Herald offers between them instead. Thom laughs. There is a handsome face under all that beard. “Can you tell me anything about what is really happening down the Frostbacks?”

They could, they did. Though they kept to the funnier things and soon it was only swapping stories of idiocy and debauchery.

“No, no.” Millie shakes her head to interrupt Thom’s tale of the Redcliffe tavern. “I’ve heard a dozen versions of that same story since I was fifteen.”

The Herald chokes on his last swallow of ale. Millie takes her chance to stand and pat him on the back but it is rather more steadying herself than being any help. Most of a bottle of wine in her veins means she doesn’t think twice about about rubbing a hand over the Herald’s broad shoulders.

“Since you’ve pegged me for a liar already, Why don’t you tell us a tale?” Thom crosses his arms and tips his chair back.

“Too right.” Millie winks at the Herald as she takes his empty tankard. “Just as soon as I’ve stirred the fire.”

“Why bother?” Thom pats his leg. “I’m warm.”

“Is he like this everywhere?” Millie calls from the taps.

“Maker, no.” The Herald stands up politely as she comes back but Millie waves him down. He sits carefully, elbows tucked into his sides, as if he’s afraid of knocking something over. “He’s a right sourpuss. Face like a cat’s ass most nights.”

The Herald grins at her and returns the two-fingered salute he gets from his mate. Thom is still offering and with a loud sigh so he knows she isn’t fooled but only playing along Millie perches on one knee with her cup of wine.

“There’s usually more flopping on our shoulders,” the Herald says.

“I don’t need to flop,” Millie rolls her eyes. The Herald clears his throat and starts in on a bawdy joke at the Empress’ expense.

“You’ve had a long night.” Thom’s hand falls light on her waist. The heat of it through her dress is lovely and nerve-making. He shifts behind her.

There’s not as much chance for changing her mind if she settles into his lap but she does it anyway. One arm wraps around her middle to pull her in a little tighter. This way they are eye to eye and Millie is suddenly feeling shy. She turns to keep her attention across the table.

Thom’s fingers play idly up and down the inside of her wrist where her arm rests on the edge of the table. Over her pulse, the ticklish skin of her forearm, to the crook of her elbow. Just that small touch makes her want to squirm. She shivers, not able to hide her quickened breath and the Herald’s blue eyes go sneaky. Millie can’t look into Thom’s face without some awkward twisting so she watches Emery while he talks of crossing the Waking Sea on a Rivaini schooner. He in turn looks at the big tanned hand on her arm, the fingertips worming under the rolled up sleeve at her elbow. Thom is gentle but steady, no apologies. His hands aren’t pulling or demanding but they aren’t polite, either.

He hums to himself, still stroking her arm. “Soft,” he sighs, nose in her hair for a moment. “Thank the Maker for soft skin.”

_Andraste’s Natty Knickers that voice._ Millie shrugs as best she can slouched against him, which settles her in further. “I’m a woman it’s my purpose to be soft.”

The Herald laughs and has a long pull at his ale. “The hardest women I’ve ever known were all running pubs back home. My brothers used to sneak me into a place called the Crafty Gingerroot. Madame Drake liked to pin your sleeve down to the bar with a dagger if you came up short on the tab. She cut my oldest brother’s braid off one night for backchatting her.”

Thom had been carefully shifting both of them in the chair until Millie has her back to his chest. His deep breaths gently lift her. He noses her hair again, lips brushing her ear. She shivers and her nipples go painfully hard.

“Give us a kiss,” he whispers.

“Piss off.” Millie’s rebuff is toothless thanks to the gasp he gets out of her with a careful nip at her earlobe. Across the table the Herald makes himself more comfortable in his own seat. “Is this how the pair of you occupy yourselves?” Millie lets Thom nudge her head a tiny bit to her left. His beard tickles the side of her neck as he kisses there.

“I wish. Mostly we’re keeping our hides in one piece and sleeping off the last fight.” The Herald sighs. “There hasn’t been any fun at all lately.”

“This is fun to you?” Millie barely manages to say it without stammering. Thom’s hot tongue darts after a teasing bite that makes her squirm.

The Herald sits back farther, adjusting his breeches with an apologetic grin.

“Give us a kiss,” Thom says again - this time into the crook of her neck.

“I don’t snog strangers.” She moans, tilting her head further and closing her eyes as he noses the neck of her dress farther down her shoulder. He leaves small sharp nips and soothing kisses on the skin he uncovers.

"Oh, Thom," Emery chimes in as Millie has shifted enough to let Thom repeat himself on the other ear and she has once again refused. "D'you remember that Inn out in Val Chevin, the one with the-"

"Mmhhm," Thom mutters against her neck. "Not the time for that story, Emery."

Opening her eyes, Millie leans forward, enough to take him off her neck and have a sip of her ale. He protests, grumbling under his breath as he polishes off his own mug. "Oh, now I want to hear it, Herald."

"Emery." He smiles at her, the dark shadows under his eyes making him look sickly despite his bulk and obvious vigor. "Well, the thing is, Thom had gotten us a whole bunch of rum and I was late so he was well ahead of me, and," Emery laughed. "You know what, he _did_ have a girl on each knee that night."

Millie turns to look over her shoulder. Thom's cheeks have gone a little ruddy. His mouth is distracting though, she isn't really listening. He licks his lip to catch a stray drop of foam and she feels herself getting uncomfortably wet. It's been coming on since she let him start in on her ear.

"-but the next thing I know, Thom's laying flat on his back on the floor with a whole flagon of ale poured over him!"

She looks back in time to laugh dutifully. 

"Should've just picked one, would've been fine."

Behind her, Thom's hands wind around her waist, fingers overlapping under her ribs. Millie slides back until she's wriggling around to get comfortable on the hard cock under thigh. He groans a little under his breath.

She lets herself relax fully, settling back into his body and twining her fingers with his. “So we’re certain,” she holds Emery’s shadowed eyes. “I am _not_ taking you two into my own bed. Not least because you’d probably break it, bloody big monsters that you are.”

Thom laughs, jiggling her. “You’ve no idea.”

Millie grinds down into him and he grunts in surprise. “Don’t go bragging, Ser, girls aren’t as anxious about that as you blokes think.”

He grips her hips in both hands. “It’s only bragging for me. The truth for him.” He rubs against her with a contented purr.

She finds herself looking at the other man’s lap but it’s too dark to make much out.

“Ah, yes, well. Yes. I'm on the Potion, of course. Second - um, third thing - I’ve got nothing catching but if either of you do I’ll have you out on your ears.” At Emery’s wide eyes and quick denial and Thom’s muttered _No worry_ she nods. “Good. It’s been ages since I was in a spitroast.”

Thom’s chuckle is lovely, and very very dirty.

“Or does he only like to watch?” Millie asks Thom, leaning her head back on his shoulder and petting his thigh through his breeches. He feels muscled and warm. Emery looks the same.

“I like watching, too, but the other thing-” Here the Herald looks into his tankard shyly. “It’s not something that has to happen.”

“Nothing _has_ to happen.” Thom says, terse. “But I think it will.” He untangles their fingers and toys with the laces holding her dress cinched tight. “Give us a kiss, Millie.”

She smiles but doesn’t turn her head under the gentle pressure of his thumb at her chin. Instead she pulls his thumb to her lips, biting and giving him a sucking kiss on the tip. Emery chuckles and leans on the table with both elbows, chin propped on one hand.

“That’s spiteful, Miss Millie. Thom likes a good kiss. It gets him all wound up.”

“He’s plenty wound,” she laughs. “He can kiss some place else if he’s of a mind.”

“Always.” Thom growls in her ear. “Sit on my face - I’ll make you come until you drown me.” His hand gathers up one side of her skirt. She lets him. Emery sighs appreciatively when her thigh is in view. Thom’s fingertips drag gooseflesh behind them. He teases and slides his hand under the edge of the heavy wool skirt but doesn’t go any farther than the rolled tops of her stockings. “Want one here first? Something to hold you over until we’re upstairs?”

MIllie shifts, hooking her ankles behind his until the buckles on his boots click against her shoes. “Mmm. You’re welcome to play a bit.” She rests a hand over his, tracing a long red scar down his first finger.

“She doesn’t think you can manage it.” Emery shakes his head with a false frown. “Poor girl. Hasn’t had a good hand under her skirt lately.”

“Says you. My own is very good.”

Thom doesn’t answer only teases her a little more, keeping her skirt down to hide his hand. Millie lets her eyes close and reminds herself not to jump when gentle fingertips brush over the hair between her legs, petting but not pressing on. She has to fight not to arch off his lap or press forward in the hopes of being touched the way she suddenly very much wants.

“You should feel her.” Thom says softly to Emery. His fingers slip over her inner thighs then further, down between her lips. “Slick as an eel already.” He circles tenderly, searching out the right places to touch.

Millie’s gasp is embarrassingly loud so she slaps a hand over her mouth. Emery laughs at her and adjusts himself in his trousers.

“Told you he’s got talent.”

Maker has he ever. Millie jumps in Thom’s arms, unable to stop her hips jerking at the careful circles on her clit. She hears herself whinging and hides her face in the curve of his neck, his beard brushing her cheek. It’s good, very good, but the fact the big man across the table is watching Thom’s hand move under her skirt is alternately exciting and distracting until Millie can’t relax into the pleasure.

“Slow down, Thom.” Emery says quietly. All the shy smile in his voice is gone as he leans forward to see better.

“No!” Millie grabs hold of Thom’s wrist but it is too late. He rubs achingly slow and feather light, the tendons in his arm hard under her hand. “Oh, fuck, please… _shite_ …please make me come.” Her voice has gone thready, mouth dry.

Thom’s breath is as shallow as her own. The hard length of him under her feels more apparent as he crooks a finger, his voice so low in her ear she doubts it carries to Emery’s side of the table. “Go on then,” he urges. “Come for me.”

She gives up trying to force his hand to press harder. Instead she reaches back and sinks both hands in his hair. When she pulls he lets out a pleased grunt.

“Yes, that’s it. Come. I’ll take you upstairs and lick you clean.”

She breaks and every movement after is near-agony. He pushes her a little past the edge until she arches up and then shrinks back to evade his fingers.

“Give it to me,” he groans. “Keep coming.”

“Enough!” She gasps and squeezes his hand between her thighs, shaking. “Mmm, enough, enough. Maker.” Millie presses his hand flat under her skirt in case he is tempted to torture her further. Dreamily she watches Emery stand and come around to their end of the table. He’s wobbly with drink but finally she can see what Thom was talking about. The creature tucked at an angle against his thigh is rather impressive.

Thom cups his hand gently, squeezing her one last time then lets go. He holds his damp hand up for Emery to lick his palm then eagerly suck two of his fingers clean.

“Fuck,” she shivers and grinds down into Thom’s cock. He plucks at her dress with the hand not in Emery’s mouth, circling her nipples in turn until Millie pulls his hair again. “One of you, both of you - fuck me.”

***

 


	2. 2

The small lamp she had left burning wasn’t enough for them. Thom lit the rest and brought them to the bedside table with a lopsided smile. Seeing Emery duck under the low doorway, she’s glad she made this particular room ready. Nothing to be done about the ceiling but the bed is big enough even for a Qunari.

Millie sits at the edge of the bed, nervous belly almost overpowering the warm waves left behind from her orgasm. Thom props a knee on the bed and grabs the back of his collar to pull his white shirt over his head. As she had expected, he is hairy. His arms and shoulders are striped with old scars but he is warm under her hand and content to let her pet him.

“Where’d the soap go?” Emery rummages in an enormous rucksack by the washstand.

‘Same place as always.” Thom says without looking over his shoulder. “Give us a kiss.” He laughs under his breath as she finds a ticklish place along his ribs.

“I’m gonna scrub up first, then you can have as many as you want.”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Thom chuckles. His thumb is gentle on her bottom lip as he cups her jaw, tilting her head back a little.

Millie bites him again.

“I thought you’d rather kiss other things.”

“True enough.” THom’s heavy brows crowd together over his crooked nose. “I’m wondering if you always come so quick, dear heart.” He shifts to sit at her side then tugs the edge of her dress enough to kiss her shoulder. His beard gives her gooseflesh. “Lay back, hmm?”

He nudges her and she goes tense a moment. He’s so…big. Suddenly all she can think of are swords and knives and dented plate armor. Thom must feel it because he makes a shushing noise, pulling at the lacing drawn tight over her chest. 

“I’ll play nice, Miss Millie,” he rumbles in that distractingly deep voice. “Very nice.” He has a few inches of ribbon worked free and the air in the room feels chilly between her breasts. “And Emery wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Caught unawares, the Herald coughs as he swallows a mouthful of wine necked straight from the bottle. Millie can see him blushing even in the dim corner. His breeches hang loose on his hips and he shrugs, one hand wiping at a dribble of wine running through his pale chest hair. 

Thom’s dark head comes up and he winks before going to one knee in front of her. He finishes unlacing her dress but doesn’t pull it apart, preferring to ease her skirt up to her knees then reach under to find the tops of her stockings. 

“See there? Say something nice and he goes pink as a sunburnt nug.”

Emery stretches out on the quilt behind her. “Maker’s Breath, I can’t remember the last time my feet didn’t hang off a bed. You run a good inn, Millie.” 

She laughs as Thom gets rid of her stockings and shoes. Emery’s blue eyes sleepily watch until THom reaches for her bodice. “Come and lie down, Millie.” 

Her head pillowed on his warm shoulder, she relaxes under their hands. The two of them undress her. The bed creaks under them as Thom comes up, breaking the warm quiet. 

“You really gonna charge us if we do break it?” Emery asks, brushing the backs of his knuckles over first one nipple, then the other.

“That…um, that depends,” Millie arches into his palm, which Thom takes advantage of to roll her toward him. She lets him pull her leg up and over his hip, very aware of how that exposes her to Emery’s hand behind her. “On how friendly I feel toward you in the- _ah_!” Emery’s fingers tickle the back of her thigh, teasing but not pressing ahead too fast. “-in the morning.”

She keeps her own free hand busy petting Thom’s chest. He hisses when she teases his small flat nipples. 

“Like this,” Emery reaches over her and twists one between his fingers. Thom’s hips jerk and he growls a curse into her hair, his fingers clenching on her thigh. The rough leather of his breeches scratches the sole of her foot and the inside of her leg.

Then they are all three rubbing against one another. Emery’s hand guides hers on Thom, encouraging her to pull the hair that grows in a thick black line below his navel. She tries pressing her fingernails into the soft skin of Thom’s abdomen - both men groan. The last of her nerves vanish and Millie reaches back to squeeze the firm length of cock behind her. 

Emery writhes, thrusting against her hand and slipping his fingers between her thighs. “Gods, yes,” he sighs. A blunt fingertip eases between her lips. “Tell me I can fuck you tonight.”

“Not with your trousers on,” Millie laughs, reminding herself to breathe. That finger presses farther forward until she hitches her leg up higher on Thom’s hip. “Yes, there, that’s it…more.”

Emery’s thumb is barely grazing her arsehole while he plays with her clit. She moves away but it only presses her harder into his middle finger, now sliding in sure circles just slow enough to make her groan in frustration. When she relaxes back his thumb strokes again and she shivers. 

“Don’t be shy,” Emery says softly, still teasing her. “Isn’t she pretty, Thom?” His posh accent makes it sound twice as thrilling when he says over her head, “Good enough to eat, isn’t she?” Emery takes his hand away to press his middle finger into Thom’s mouth. Thom sucks it with another groan, his eyes fluttering shut. 

Millie squirms up onto an elbow, wiggling between them until she can duck under Emery’s arm then push Thom onto his back to climb over him and off the bed. 

“I need more wine, and you’re both overdressed.”

“Yes, my lady,” Emery salutes her with a grin after Thom lets go of his finger with a lewd slurp. “Right away, ma’am.” 

Opening a fresh bottle took a moment, between her shaking hands and the slippery corkscrew. By the time she turns back the cold air away from the small fireplace has given her the chills and the idea of diving in between two warm men is wonderful. 

If she can find space. Thom wrapped himself around Emery, who has a hand down the back of his breeches while he fumbles with their belt buckles. They laugh and Emery smiles before pulling him in for a thorough kiss. His hands, gnarled veins and knobby knuckles standing out under a heap of freckles, comb through Thom’s greying hair gingerly. They break apart enough to breathe hard, beards mussed and lips red. 

“The last time I did this one fellow was almost as pretty as me.” Millie runs a hand down Thom’s back, watching the muscle there move along with him as he grinds down into Emery. 

Thom straddles Emery, sitting on his hips to unbuckle his own belt. He tilts his head in the direction of Millie’s cup so she feeds him a few swallows and lets him pull her closer with a hand on her arse. His mouth is cold on her breasts for a moment as he nips and sucks until she gasps. 

“You trying to ask who fucks who?”

Emery laughs and wiggles his breeches down until his cock is free then does the same to Thom. 

“Told you it wasn’t bragging for him,” Thom takes both their erections in hand and strokes slowly, dragging their foreskins back and forth. 

Emery shrugs as he scratches at his bearded cheek. “I’m big all over.”

The ease with which Thom handles Emery’s cock tells her as much about them as the way Emery smiles up fondly at him. 

“Good girl,” Thom sighs as she finishes her wine then leaves the empty cup on the bedside table. “Move over, Em’ry. I want to watch her come again.”

The Herald sits up and twists in a great heave of muscle until Thom is on his back with a good-natured complaint. Emery pats Thom’s flank then stands to step out of his trousers. His cock hangs heavy between scarred thighs and Millie Tries to picture fitting it all into her mouth. She takes hold of him gingerly. Her thumb and fingers don’t meet. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Emery says lightly. He makes a pleased purring sort of groan as she rubs a drop of fluid into the tip. He cups her breasts softly, thumbing her nipples. “I know you said no kissing but is it all right to…” Emery trails off, licking his lips while he plays with her. 

“Oh, that’s fine.” Millie watches a moment. His strange green palm feels ticklish but there aren’t tentacles coming out of it and she doesn’t hear any demons whispering. “I’ll say if I don’t like something, love. Go on and- Maker!” Millie cries out before she can stop herself, not expecting her feet to leave the floor. 

The Herald picks her up and sits on the bed, his erection hot and firm against her stomach. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Thom grumbles, hand on his own cock moving lazily so that the blushing crown is barely touched by his foreskin with each slow stroke. “He’ll have his nose in your tits for an hour.”

Emery licks and bites, squeezing just hard enough and yes, burying his long curved nose between her breasts with a happy sigh. 

“They’re good,” he mumbles, holding her so that he can suck one nipple then the other. “Good tits, just right.” His hair is still damp at the back of his neck where Millie holds on for balance, laughing at his fascination. 

She rides his thigh until he falls back and takes her with him. Thom nuzzles her stomach, leaving small kisses on his way down between her legs. She pulls at his hair gently, and Emery’s too. Warm breath and two slick tongues are nearly overwhelming. Millie bites back a moan. Thom nudges her thighs closer together, his beard scraping tender skin as he licks her, sucking at her until she shakes.

“Please don’t stop!” Millie pulls his hair harder, thrusting up then apologizing for bumping his nose. “Don’t stop.”

Emery smiles around her nipple, worrying her with his teeth. “Not a chance, Miss. Thom can eat cunt until you cry.”

She tries to laugh but is cut off by another moan when Thom does something incredible with his tongue as if to prove the Herald’s point. 

“Shite!” Her hips jerk when he does it again. Emery grins so she strokes his cock roughly until he grunts. It becomes a game - each time Millie wants to scream she bites her lip and rubs her thumb over the head of his cock instead. Thom plays along, licking her more roughly, teasing her with his mustache.

Millie puts the hand not on Emery’s cock over her mouth; he pulls it away and sucks two of her fingers while he plays with her breasts. His heavy-lidded eyes never leave hers as the tight throb becomes unbearable. She can feel Tom’s long, low groan of encouragement between her legs. Thom’s hands on her thighs push back and up, spreading her wide and holding her trapped as he pushes her over the edge with broad strokes of his tongue. She wiggles back, begging for him to stop, yet the moment he props up on an elbow to wipe his wet beard on the quilt she has hold of his hair without thinking.

“Sure you want to stop, dear heart?” Thom’s smirk ought to be infuriating but Millie is past dignity now.

“No, don’t stop, but not so...” She lets his hair go with a nervous laugh. “I can’t take it the same.” 

He smooths a hand over his beard and shuffles around on the bed until his head is resting on her left thigh, her right leg settled comfortably under his left arm, his hand a warm weight just above her knee. “You take care of Em’ry,” Thom says. 

He kisses her like a shy boy sneaking away from the Satinalia party. Careful and light and so slowly she does begin to feel like sobbing at the delicate way he brings her back up. _Maybe I should let him kiss whatever he likes after all._ They both know when she is close again. Thom pets her leg, squeezing her arse. Emery cuddles her close until she is clinging to his shoulder and biting at his ear to keep quiet. 

A nagging thought tells her she should be _doing_ something but they both seem so eager to take their time finding out what they can coax her into, playing with her. She laughs along with them, closing her eyes to enjoy the fizzy glow of pleasure and their hands on either side of her.

They let her drift a little while. Millie pushes her sweat damp hair away from her eyes to watch Emery haul Thom close, their hands grabbing and blunt nails digging in as they kiss. Emery’s rougher blond beard tangles with Thom’s and both pull at the other’s hair until Emery’s is loose around his shoulders. He breaks away with a groan when Thom bites at his shoulder, working his way down to suck at his pebbled nipples. 

Emery is tender with the older man. He kisses the salt and pepper hair. One hand spans the back of Thom’s neck but his fingers rub slow circles rather than forcing him down. Emery looks up as Thom takes him into his mouth - as much as will fit, anyway. The Herald’s eyes are sleepy when he smiles at Millie, pulling her hand to his lips to kiss her palm. 

“Mouth’s too dry for this,” Thom grumbles, sitting back on his heels between Emery’s long legs. He fishes his breeches out from under the bed, lacing them just enough to stay on his hips. “That geezer won’t stab me for a bottle of red, will he?”

“I wouldn’t go down barefoot, the stairs are full of splinters. But don’t fret, Branch is sleeping with cotton in his ears on the other side of the house.” Millie rolls onto her belly with a laugh. “He’s learned his lesson for when I have company.”

“I’ve not heard a good shout out of you yet,” Thom leans over the bed and bites the soft spot above her shoulder with a teasing growl. “Soon as I’m back we’ll have one, hmm?”

The quiet he leaves behind is very nearly awkward. The Herald tucks her hair behind her ear and brushes her cheek with the back of his hand. Her surprise at the tender gesture must show because his cheeks go red before he takes his hand away to fiddle with the tooth on his necklace. 

“It’s fine,” Millie says, looking at the quilt between them. “I don’t mind.” 

He rolls onto his side and strokes her like a cat: from the crown of her head to her tailbone. 

“I like you, is all. What’s the point of taking someone to bed if you don’t like them?”

“So you agree on who you both _like_ before?” Millie hums her approval as Emery’s thumb presses into the sore muscles under her shoulder blades. “Or would I be up here with just your friend otherwise?”

Emery laughs, loud this time. “You might. Thom’s not as fussed about _liking_ a pretty bird.”

“Proper rake.”

“I don’t know. He just likes to make people moan.” Emery’s hand slides between her knees but no further. _"I'm only good for a fight or a fuck,"_  he says in a passable imitation of the Markham burr. 

Millie snorts into the bed but draws one knee up in invitation.

“This all right?” He rubs her thigh, thumb creeping close to the cleft of her arse.

“You keep asking.” She smiles, turning her head to meet his eyes. “Good manners, my lord?”

“I’m big,” he says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it does - he could snap her arm off if he felt like it. He makes a satisfied noise when his fingers slip over her swollen clit with no resistance. “Gods, but you’re wet. Will you…get on your knees for me?”

She moves slowly so as not to stop him playing with her.

“Oh, no - put your head back down.” The Herald asks, moving behind her.

“So arse in the air, then?” Millie teases but she does as he asks, her face going hot with a titillating rush of shame. She has a moment of warm breath for a warning before he bites her, first one cheek then the other. His hands squeeze and caress as she holds her own breath. It leaves her on a gasp at the first swipe of his tongue. 

“Oh, Maker.” She shrinks away from him only to be pulled back. His tongue swirls after sucking bites all along the delicate place between holes. “Fuck!” His bearded chin scrapes her cunt pleasantly. “I should’ve known better…you nobles are all proper nasty.”

Emery laughs against her then teases her arsehole with the point of his tongue until she shudders. She grabs hold of the bedpost and lets him do as he likes.

 

“Em’ry, you’ve been busy.” Thom’s rough voice announces his return before he closes the door. “I want her back when you’ve finished.”

Millie lifts her head enough to moan a protest. 

Thom laughs, low and a little menacing. “Not interrupting, but you’ve yet to scream for us.”  
The lips and beard driving her mad move away to bite at her thigh. Emery sucks at her skin briefly. “Can I mark you?”

She struggles to her elbows, still dizzy with pleasure and wanting to come in the worst way. Thom is naked again, unselfconscious as he leers at them. There are purple welts on his hips and two more at his thigh, close to his cock. They’re odd shaped - they must be from the same crooked teeth nipping her arse between jiggling and squeezing.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

Emery sighs, resigned, and puts one last kiss on the small of her back before letting Thom take his place. Warm hands slide up the backs of her legs to take hold of her hips. She turns to watch him line himself up until blunt heat presses inside her. 

Thom goes slow, his mouth soft and open enough that she can see his tongue pushing against his bottom teeth as he fills her. His heavy groan goes straight to her belly, it makes her want to grind back against him to hear it again. He slaps her arse teasingly on the next stroke. For a long time she forgets Emery is there, in the chair a few feet away, his cock in hand. Thom fucks her harder when she asks, gripping her tight, pulling and pushing her with each slap of his thighs against hers.

“You gonna come just watching?” Thom pants. 

Millie tosses her hair out of her face in time to open her mouth eagerly when Emery moves back to the end of the bed. He has to stand with his feet spread wide just to get his cock down to the level of her mouth. The head is smooth and plump on her tongue but he doesn’t let her take enough in. She growls in frustration even as Thom gives her slow, hard thrusts that make her throb. 

“Lick me,” Emery says, his voice gone gravelly. “Don’t try to suck me, I’m too close to coming for that.”

Millie lets him rub against her lips, laughing at his startled grunt when she tongues the slit and sucks him a moment. Thom stops long enough for her to bob her head a few times, but she nearly chokes herself in her hurry. 

“Careful with her.” 

She clenches around Thom’s cock until he shudders against her. 

“I take it back!” His laugh is half sobbing. “Careful with me. Not ready to come yet, good girl, _fuck_ that’s…mmm.”

“Easy, easy,” Emery mutters, slipping in and out of her pursed lips with a shiver. “I want to come on you.” He lifts her under each arm with ease. It changes the angle of Thom’s cock inside her and they both moan. 

He lets her stroke him a few times before pulling her arms around his waist and taking over. Thom holds her steady with an arm under her breasts while she rests her cheek on Emery’s shoulder. The Herald’s strange hand is between her legs and it feels unbelievably odd. Hot and cold at the same time - it doesn’t sting, not exactly, but it feels like it could. 

“Don’t be shy, love.” Emery groans when a particularly hard thrust has her sinking her teeth into his damp skin. 

She rocks back and forth against his palm, fucking herself on Thom’s cock at the same time. He swipes the mess of hair from her face until they can both see her trying not to scream.

“Maker, just like that, dear heart.” Thom squeezes her tighter, his breath hot in her ear. “Come for me again. Good girl, use my cock, that’s it. Take what you want, good girl.”

Emery’s shuddering groan startles her. She barely feels the seed painting her breasts but his tongue licking it away a moment later drives her mad. Without his chest to lean against she wobbles, grabbing at his hair for balance.

She can hear herself moaning at each slick stroke as he cleans her nipples and the scarred and tanned arm wrapped around her. Emery rubs the heel of his hand against her opposite of her rhythm until she is clawing at the back of his neck and Thom’s thigh, desperate for the one last push. 

Thom flinches back. His cock, hot and sticky from her, slips between them as he gives in. The short sharp pain of his arm clenching around her jolts her into another orgasm that Emery stretches out almost unbearably, pressing hard and biting the skin he licked clean. 

Thom mumbles something into the back of her neck, biting her lazily. He has her pinned between the two of them but it doesn’t matter, this way she doesn’t have to try to use her own strength not to fall off the bed while they catch their breath.

“I know,” Emery laughs, kissing the top of her head. “No screaming, even with all that.” He crawls across the bed with a quiet groan. “Give me a little while,” he yawns.

Thom laughs, tossing Millie a clean cloth from the washstand. “That’s all you’ll get out of him tonight, dear heart.”

She wipes his spunk from the small of her back, waiting until he has turned away to get the dribble in the crack of her arse. 

“C’mere,” Emery wraps a careful hand around her ankle, tugging a bit. “Have a lie down, Miss Millie.”

Thom has another drink but Millie climbs down off the bed, patting the Herald’s muscled thigh. She excuses herself, wrapped in a spare sheet, to creep down the hall to an empty room and a chamber pot. 

Chill works into her toes, perched over the pot and willing herself to relax enough for a pee. _I should’ve gotten my clothes on._

Now there is the awkward moment outside their door, whether or not to go in. _Best to snatch up my things, then scurry off to my own bed._ She pulls her hair into a messy braid over one shoulder while she works up the courage to open the door.

“I hope you’re coming back for a cuddle.” The Herald’s voice carries through the door. 

She pushes it open, laughing despite herself and catches sight of Thom shutting the window with a guilty look on his face.

“Were you pissing down on my flower patch?”

Thom hitches his breeches up higher on his hips but they fall back again. “Might have done, yes.” He gives her an apologetic smile and blows out the lamps.

“Come on,” Emery flips the sheet back for her. “Just a little while.”

Thom’s chest is warm behind her as they both join him on the bed but Emery urges her to climb over him into the space between him and the wall. Thom hums an old nursery rhyme under his breath.

“Nuglet in the middle?” Millie curls up to his side, ear over his heart.

Emery yawns hugely and pulls both of them close, though Thom stays on top of the covers, apparently not the least bit cold.

“Inquisitor gets what he wants.” Thom says, laughing at the loud grumble from Emery’s stomach. 

Millie closes her eyes and tries to settle, still a little dizzy with wine and good sex. She matches her breathing to Emery’s, but the gurgling under her hand is distracting. 

“Will there be sausage in the morning?”

She groans in protest at the joke.

“No,” Thom sighs in the dark. It's the sound of a man very tired. “He really means breakfast.”

“I don’t cook in the mornings.”

“But we’re paying customers!” Emery pats her arse.

“You’ve gotten your money’s worth already,” she yawns. His belly feels good against her, just soft enough for a proper cuddle.

“There might be anything in those caverns tomorrow. We’ll bring you back a ruby.”

“Hah.”

“Pearls?”

Thom’s hand finds the back of her knee where it rests on Emery’s hip. She pushes down the thought that they might honestly come around again. _Best not to assume, but Maker knows._

“Don’t you dare, I told you Calebry is cursed. Everybody knows that.”

“Hock the pearls and bring you coin instead?” Thom squeezes her thigh gently, as if willing her to play along.

“Hmm. That sounds better.” She pushes her hair behind her ear and yawns into the bunched up sheet under Emery’s chin. “You can expect breakfast, then.”

“Sorted.” Emery buries his nose in her hair and is snoring in minutes.

 

 


End file.
